


Undertow

by hanyou_elf



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Implied Non-Con, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught in the undertow</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

> Complete AU featuring Derek as a college student, Aaron as a priest, and Spencer as a nurse.

_Though we try to stay afloat, I swear it's gonna kill me, even though you think it won't._

Derek Morgan walked with a bit of hesitation toward the nave of the church, unsure what it was that had brought him this far, unsure what kept him here. He had his dark, scarred hands hidden deep in his pockets. He hadn't been in a church in more than a decade. Since Buford...

He shook his head and looked around nervously, as though somebody within the building would be able to discern his thoughts and the dark path they had been so close to taking. He didn't like to think about his past. It was easier when he didn't have to. Safer. He liked to be lost in the here and now. To let life take him as he saw fit. He was stuck in the real world, struggling with the pains of his childhood. Desperate to find something that would give him safety, knowing that he would have no such luck.

Derek Morgan was only twenty-five. And yet he felt like he'd lived a hundred lifetimes. He bore fear that he couldn't stand to elaborate upon, and waited for insanity or death to take the pain.

He took a seat in the center of a pew in the middle of the church. It was his first time here, and he had been surprised to find it unlocked. The churches at home were locked unless it was time for worship. He had never been able to go and beg for the help that he'd needed desperately, because he'd been completely left alone. And at the end, _abandoned._ He stretched his feet out before him, crossed at the ankles and relaxed, letting the peaceful ambiance of the church fill him. He hadn't felt this calmness in a long time.

"Can I help you?" a deep voice asked, breaking into Derek's reverie.

"Hey, sorry man. Just checkin' it out," Derek answered as he jumped out of the pew he'd taken.

"You're fine to stay. I was just making sure you didn't need any assistance."

"What's your name?" Derek asked. He gave the man a funny look, a look that questioned the man's motivations for such kindness.

"Brother Aaron. Or Hotch, if you're among the cheeky youth," he answered as he offered his hand. "I'm the pastor of this small church."

Derek narrowed his dark eyes. He searched the older face, the pastor was probably no more than forty, and probably every bit the same kind of evil as the generous Buford. Nobody did anything without gaining something in return. Nobody. Not even the charitable. It had been a hard lesson, but Derek had learned it.

"Derek," he returned even as he refused the hand. He wouldn't let another man touch him.

"Is there something you needed help with today, Derek?" Hotch asked softly, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look the slightest bit affronted that Derek hadn’t shaken his hand.

"Was just looking."

With that, Derek turned his back on the pastor and calmly fled the simple and beautiful church.

-.-.-.-

 _All we got is one chance, and it's sink or swim. So why rock a boat and make waves?_

Derek smiled at the pretty little lady in his arms, all limbs and long hair. He had found a long time ago that loosing himself in the bodies of beautiful women was easier than trying to pretend that he didn't feel anything. When he let go, when they were wrapped around him, and moaning and wonderful and soft, he didn't have to remember what it was like to be terrified. To be frightened of another person.

She rocked her hips up against Derek and grinned as he wrapped her tight against himself. He didn't want to go through the same routine, a different woman every night, but this was the only way to keep himself sane. To prove to himself that he still had some worth. He wrapped a large hand around her head and pulled her in for a soul-searing kiss, demanding her undivided attention.

Two years ago, as a freshman, he hadn't know a thing about pleasing a woman. His only sexual experiences had been at the hands of a hypocritical monster, of a man who'd claimed to only want to help, and instead, degraded and destroyed. He hadn't known what the women he was bedding wanted, but it hadn't taken him long to figure it out.

And now, as a junior, he was quite adept at giving women what they wanted, when they wanted. How they wanted it. But not matter how many women he bedded, no matter how many were satisfied with his performances, it was never enough. Something was missing.

"Hey baby," the woman, Alicia she'd said her name was, murmured in his ear. "Want to go to my place and continue our... dance?"

Derek smirked like he'd been waiting to hear those very words his entire life. With a nod in the affirmative, he let the woman, long and slinky, lead him from the crowded dance floor to the door.

-.-.-.-

He hadn't realized how close the church was to campus until hours later, when he left a sleeping Alicia satisfied in her bed. He walked with the grace of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted, without having to work too hard for it. All the lights within the building were on. And Derek thought that was odd. It was an unusual time for the lights, wasn't it? He looked down at his watch and was surprised to see it was closer to nine than he'd thought. Services would be starting soon than, especially since it was a beautiful Sunday morning.

"Good morning, Derek," the pastor's voice called to him. He froze. No. He didn't remember his name, did he? Turning slowly, Derek let his dark eyes take in the small smile on the pastor's face and tried to puzzle him out. "Will you be joining us this lovely morning?"

Derek shook his head and stepped back. This man should not remember who he was. He should have far too many other people to remember some black kid he'd met for a minute. More than a month ago. "I don't do church."

"What does that mean, Derek?" Hotch asked. He shifted on the stairs like he was ready to give a lecture, but seemed to think better of it, waiting instead for Derek to speak.

"Why do you remember my name?" he whispered, instead of answering the older man's question.

"I was blessed with an uncanny memory. Though nothing like one of my friend's," Hotch shrugged. "And I've been praying for you."

"You don't need to," Derek demanded. "You don't need to worry about me at all. Don't think about me. This... I shouldn't have met you. It was a mistake."

"Who hurt you, Derek?"

Derek jumped like he'd been hit physically and backed away from the church. "Just... Stop."

With that, he gulped air into lungs that were too tight, turned on his heel and fled like he'd always wanted to as a child.

-.-.-.-

 _I don't want to talk now. I don't want to hear you scream no more. Want somebody to save me._

Derek Morgan was pissed. He was laid up in bed, he was to have his knee propped at or above his heart. To discourage swelling. They'd done surgical repairs, and he would probably never play football again, but that didn't mean he had to lose the knee, or his athleticism. Just the part of it that had 200 pound men slamming physically into him repeatedly.

The good thing about it was the endless stream of lady visitors that he'd gotten since the story ran in the paper about the career ending injury. He'd already had a reporter offer him a blow job to get well soon. He'd had to laugh, the woman was so obviously a cougar, and desperate for a piece of young meat.

"Mr. Popular," the head nurse knocked on his door. It was odd, this man should have intimidated him, but he did no such thing. Nurse Reid was non-threatening. And that meant that Derek was able to relax around him. Which was a good thing. "One more visitor." Derek nodded understanding and made a _'come on'_ gesture.

"Derek," the familiar and grating voice of the pastor called to him.

"Aaron, be nice, he's injured."

"I know. Thanks for getting me in to see him," Hotch answered. He pressed a kiss to Nurse Reid's cheek and waited for the slender man to disappear before he entered the room completely.

"Are you a fag?" Derek asked, derision deep in the back of his throat.

"I'm a man of God," Hotch smiled magnanimously. "And where God leads me, I follow." He didn't wait for invitation, but took the chair closest to the bed, closest to Derek's stomach and chest. To his vulnerable areas.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I read about what happened in the paper and thought I'd come and pray over you."

"I don't need your prayers."

"If you don't want prayers," Hotch shrugged. He stroked his clean shaven chin thoughtfully and suggested: "We could always finish that conversation we were about to have."

"I don't think it's any of your business," Derek growled, looking away from the older man. He couldn't run. He couldn't get away from the implications, and that was what scared him the most. This man was too close, too dangerous.

"You'll have to talk about it eventually," Hotch reasoned. "This is as good a starting place as any, right?"

"No."

Hotch closed the distance between their hands and before Derek could do more than freeze in fright, he murmured, "I'm not going to hurt you," and was gone.

Derek shivered as his body finally allowed him to react. He was surprised to learn that there was more than fear there.

-.-.-.-

'Cause I ain't losing my control... caught in the undertow.

"Hey baby, how're you feeling?" Fran Morgan's voice washed over her son like a calming balm. Soothing and just what he'd needed to hear in the wake of his release from physical therapy.

"All the therapists are sadists," he complained as he labored down the sidewalk that led to school, past Hotch's church.

"Is it helping you?"

"Yeah."

"Then suck it up," Fran laughed. Derek laughed with her, because it was nice to hear from his mother. They didn't talk nearly enough anymore. And he missed her easy laughter, her warm heart. He missed her ambiance, that cooling balm that only a mother who desperately loved her children could have. "Guess who came to ask about you today!" Fran suggested.

Derek froze. He couldn't have. When Derek had told Buford about going away to school, about leaving Illinois completely, he'd thrown Derek against the nearest wall and told him that he'd never been good enough for him anyhow. He wouldn't have come to check on him through his mother.

"Baby?"

"W-who momma?" Derek stuttered out. He looked around him frightfully and cursed to himself as the church was the closest thing. The church's steps were the nearest raised surface that he could easily lower himself down on.

"Carl Buford," she announced with a bit of pride. "He was wondering how you were doing in school. Said he saw the paper and wanted to check up on you. Without you knowing about it. How sweet is that?"

"That's nice of him," Derek bit out. "Momma, I love you, but I've got an English lab about to start. Extra credit for the classes I missed in the hospital," he lied easily. His chest felt too tight. His breath wasn't getting deep enough. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think straight.

"Alright baby. I love you. Keep making me proud!"

"Love you too, mom."

With that, he hung the phone up and curled forward, refusing to accept what was happening to him. The panic attack, the fear that was assaulting him.

Why would he... why would he check up on something that had never been good enough for him? Why would he do that? Was there some kind of technique behind it? Something that made it easier for him to control Derek's fear? Because in the end, he made it look like he really did care?

"Derek?" There was a heavy hand on his shoulders. Derek shivered and lifted his head to look at the damned pastor. He was everywhere, it seemed. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Derek answered petulantly, lowering his head to his one good knee.

A strong hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look at the pastor again. "If it's nothing, then why are you crying?"

"I'm not good enough. It doesn't make sense."

"What are you talking about?"

"He... he told me I wasn't good enough. But he talked to momma," Derek whispered in broken confusion. "I don't understand."

"Than that makes both of us. Who is he?" Hotch asked, his voice soothing and calm.

Slowly, in a voice that was broken and shaking, Derek confessed to this pastor. To this man who had done nothing but show him what a caring man looked like. Who expected nothing of the younger. He told Hotch about the first time Buford had touched him.

About going to church and begging for it to stop after two years, but being denied.

About finally making it out of there, only to be told he wasn't good enough.

About failing because the only thing he had had going for him was football, and he couldn't even do that anymore.

About not being good enough.

About being scared of men, and their touches and their looks and their always hidden ulterior motives.

About the endless stream of women, who made him feel good enough.

And when he was done, he sat on the steps of that beautifully simple church and sobbed, broken and exposed. But he felt, not whole, but definitely good enough, for the first time in years.

-.-.-.-

And I don't want to let you go, when we're caught in the undertow

The first time he'd come to First Baptist Church was a year ago. He'd walked in to investigate the simple structures, to see the careful solidarity of the church. He had wanted to remember what it felt like when he was a child, and all he could think of was going to church, of the happiness and love that he had felt as a child.

It was here that he'd met Hotch. Simple and eloquent. He was strikingly intelligent, frustratingly generous, and a complete abnormality in Derek's long line of experience with people. Women, he'd found, were easy to manipulate with a smile and a careful caress along their pretty cheek. Men, he'd learned long, long ago, were more adept at manipulation. They didn't need to make their male partners feel pretty, it was all about making sure they got what they wanted.

But Hotch, he was something different. Something completely different. Something he would have never thought about the other man. He wasn't interested in forwarding Derek in any particular aspect of life. But when the younger man approached him about getting a tutor maybe to help with his English and history courses, it was like somebody had lit a fire beneath Hotch. He was genuinely excited for Derek. And surprisingly, Nurse Reid was more than willing to help out. And the best thing about him was his photographic or eidetic or something-ic memory. He remembered everything he'd ever read, recalled with great clarity things he'd listened to. It was all so very nice when Derek needed the help of a particular research material. Especially since Nurse Reid, Spencer as he preferred, seemed to have read all the books in the world.

He was graduating next week. Graduating and going back to Chicago for a while before making his final decision. He wanted to continue, go to graduate school and get a master's. He wanted more for himself, and Hotch and Spencer had been instrumental in providing the encouragement to be more than the jock.

He'd even grown personally. With Hotch's help, he got his entire past aired out. It didn't make it better, it didn't heal a damned thing, but he was able to deal with it better. Had even gotten the courage to make something happen with Spencer. It hadn't been pretty, and it hadn't been easy, but it had been fun. And when they were going their separate ways, Spencer had told him to call if he needed to burn off steam again. And the best thing about it was that neither of them had allowed it to affect their friendship.

But Hotch. Hotch was different. Since he'd tried with Spencer, and he had enjoyed it, he'd been curious about Hotch. Was Hotch even interested? He wanted to know, but he didn't want to ruin their fragile relationship. And he refused to let his past dictate even this relationship.

"Derek," Hotch's voice called to him through his tumbling thoughts.

Derek turned and smiled at the older man. He wasn't completely comfortable with him, and part of it was his own fault. He wanted to try something with the other man that he hadn't allowed happen since Spencer, and before Spencer, never willingly. "Hey, Hotch."

"How are you? You look like you've got a lot on your mind."

"I'm... yeah, I do. I'm graduating Wednesday," Derek sighed.

"And I'll be there." Hotch placed a large hand on Derek's shoulder, what could have been threatening at one time, was now a gesture meant only to comfort and sooth. "We've talked about it. Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"I'm... I'm going to graduate school. Just don't know where yet. I'd like to do it here. Familiar surroundings and all, you know?" he smiled.

"We'd love to have you come back."

"Yeah, that'd be good." Derek scratched the back of his head nervously and looked toward the pulpit. There was a simple rose arrangement adorning the crucifixion that stood as the centerpiece. As much as anything else, this church had become part of his home away from Chicago. It had become a sanctuary for himself when things got rough. And he'd needed it. He wasn't sure if it was God leading them, as Hotch might've believed, but he was grateful to whatever supernatural force had brought them together.

"Derek," Hotch said softly, approaching the dark youth cautiously. "I'm going to do something," he said when the other had turned to face him. "But I don't want you to doubt me. Do you trust me?"

Derek blinked. He looked to each side and licked his lips nervously. What could Hotch possibly want with him? "Haven't I shown you that I do?" he asked softly, looking into Hotch's expressive eyes. Hiding his fear and his nerves.

Hotch's answer to the question was the gentle press of lips to Derek's.

It was an answer to a question that Derek had been to scared to pose. And it was a good answer. He shivered but it was okay. He wasn't scared,

His dark eyes focused on the grey in Hotch's short hair.

He focused on the warm hand on his elbow, calling him to attention, demanding his attention, but not restraining him.

He watched as Hotch's dark eyes drifted shut, letting himself get caught up in the moment.

And before he could really breath properly, he had his arms wrapped tight around the pastor, deepening the kiss just enough that tongues shyly met in the middle. He traced Hotch's lips, the smooth line of even teeth and the slick surface of the roof of the other man's mouth, gasping lightly as Hotch mimicked the movements.

When they broke apart for air, Derek wouldn't have been able to stop the smile that spread goofily across his handsome face. Relieved that one of the important questions he'd had in life was solved, Derek placed another chaste kiss to Hotch's lips and answered him softly, "I'm going to do graduate school here. Get my degree in something fancy.”


End file.
